


Stolen

by Dangereuse



Series: Tomarry D&D-athon [9]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Danger, Dom/sub Undertones, Harry can't let his buddies be in danger, Harry has an inappropriate reaction to danger, Harry is the bravest and no one can deny, M/M, That boi needs help, Voldie thinks Harry is /fascinating/, extraneous nicknames, hostage!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangereuse/pseuds/Dangereuse
Summary: “No,” Harry said. He purposely leaned forward into the bank robber’s thigh, hands still clenching his own wrists. He nuzzled his thigh when Snake-face’s hand tightened in his hair, trying to keep his attention. “She's pregnant,” he lied. “You'll have to take me instead.”
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Tomarry D&D-athon [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692079
Comments: 15
Kudos: 237





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For day 9, 10 and 12 of the Tomarry D&D athon

It was a dull day at the bank, and Harry was about ready to fall asleep at his teller booth. There was no one in the lobby but employees inside the lobby and Ron, their security was making eyes at Hermione. Hermione was pretending she didn't notice, focusing on an account spreadsheet Harry knew she had completed  _ hours  _ ago. Harry sort of wanted to kick him. He’d told Ron Hermione took work hours very seriously. Although if there was a day to senselessly moon, it would be today. They’d had one customer since they opened. Harry was going to have to take his break to take a walk around and stop from falling asleep. 

He turned to Hermione, “‘Mione--”

The doors to the lobby burst open, the glass doors trembling and threatening to break in their frames. 

The with the stomping of combat boots. Five armed people stormed into the room. Harry stared ludicrously at the assortment of masks. The woman in front was wearing a unicorn and toting a rifle, and Harry wanted to laugh until she swung the butt of her rifle and clocked Ron across the face. 

Ron crumpled with a hurt noise and didn’t get up. The woman was cackling, mantling over him and pulling back her foot to kick. 

Harry knew he had an inappropriate fear response, thank you very much, but it was a whole other thing when his friends were being threatened as well. He dove for the alarm button. 

A spate of three bullets hit the countertop in front of him. Harry froze, the hairs on the back of his neck raising and his throat feeling tight and hot. 

“Hands up,” ordered the man in the back, holding up one hand into a fist. He sauntered forward, wearing a pale white snake mask with blood-red eyes and a painted forked tongue. Harry stared at him for a moment, at his long hands, his dominant stroll.  _ Shite.  _ Harry thought.  _ This better not awaken anything in me _ .

Harry saw Hermione’s hands go up in the corner of his eye. Harry looked over, watched her make a micro-shake of her head. Fuck. Hermione hadn’t managed to hit the alarm either. 

“Beauty, stop playing with your food,” Snake-face ordered, without even looking, and the unicorn woman pouted but dropped Ron’s head, immediately, causing it to make a small thumping noise on the bank’s shiny parquet. Harry tried to stop his hands curling into fists. 

“Seneca, the bags,” he ordered, and a man Harry was pretty sure was wearing one of those generic white-bread senators stepped forward. 

“Which one of you can open the vault?” Snake-face asked. 

Hermione spoke, “I can.” She began to lower her hands, “Just let me get the keys,” she cajoled.

“Ah, ah,” Snake-face ordered. Hermione froze. “Beauty, please,” he said, and she trained her rifle on Ron’s head. He was groaning and his eyebrows were fluttering, but he wasn’t getting up off the floor. “Junior. Please, examine the key situation.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Junior hopped over the counter, the manic clown face bouncing a bit as he landed. He ended up too close to Hermione, and Harry bristled, edging closer. 

Hermione gestured towards the keys. Junior picked them up, jingled them over his head. 

“You,” Snake-face ordered, gesturing with one pale long-fingered hand towards Harry. “Come around the counter.”

Harry hesitated, looking at Hermione. She nodded, and Harry walked around, slow. 

“Kneel. Hands behind your back,” Snake-face ordered, casually, and Harry was fully expecting a muzzle to the forehead and not at all expecting the tangle of long fingers in his hair, pressing his face into the surprisingly soft fabric of Snake-face’s pressed pants. He smelt  _ electric _ , like gunpowder and a musky sandalwood cologne, and Harry very carefully did not fidget on his knees. He watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye and tried not to breathe in deep. 

“Go, open the vault,” Snake-face ordered, and this close Harry could hear his voice rumbling in his lean body. Hermione disappeared into the back with Junior, but Snake-face kept Harry’s face pressed to one lean thigh, hand tight enough that it just barely pulled on his curls. 

Hermione came back quickly, before Harry could really wonder how effective biting Snake-face’s thigh would go. Seneca was still emptying a cashbox full of diamonds into a sack, and Hermione was still, thankfully, unharmed, if as pale as her deep brown skin could go. 

Snake-face began to pull back, obviously happy, attention shifting, “ _ Good _ \--” he started, and then the last man, quiet until now in the corner, put up his hand, interrupted. 

“Gunshots reported at this address, my Lord.” He said, brushing his ear. 

Snake-face paused. “Really, how interesting.” He sounded breathy, exhilarated, attention stolen by this new development. “Thank you, Reindeer.”

“We’ll need a pretty little hostage!” She crowed. She did a little joyful girlish twirl, and then pointed her gun at Hermione. “I vote that one!” 

Snake-face shrugged, obviously uncaring, and began again to pull away from Harry. 

“No,” Harry said. He purposely leaned forward into Snake-face’s thigh, hands still clenching his own wrists. He nuzzled his thigh when Snake-face’s hand tightened in his hair, trying to keep his attention. “She's pregnant,” he lied. “You'll have to take me instead.” He looked up, peered up at Snake-face through his eyelashes to temper his demanding tone. Harry’s blood was pounding, almost unable to hear his own thoughts over the noise. Hermione couldn’t be taken. 

He could hear Hermione's frustrated noise in the corner, but she knew it would just weaken both their positions if she argued back. “Harry, no,” she still said, exasperated and angry with it. 

Snake-face cocked his masked head at Harry, pulled Harry back by his hair until his throat was exposed. Harry got the impression he was smiling, excited by this turn of events, excited at being reported, excited at the possibility of a shoot-out, excited at the kneeling, excited at a little spark from his hostage. “Acceptable,” he drawled, voice amused. 

“Junior, please accommodate our guest,” he ordered, and the man moved immediately. He dropped his gun on it’s strap, and then pulled out a handful of industrial zip ties. Snake-face continued to grip Harry by the hair as the man bound his wrists, tight enough that Harry could feel a tingle in his fingers. It hurt, and he flexed his fingers to keep circulation.  He let loose a sigh of relief, shot Hermione a cheeky grin over his shoulder. They were taking him, leaving her. She was glaring at him, fingers clenched. She knew just as well as he did what usually happened to hostages. 

Snake-face released Harry with a little pat, nodded to Junior. Junior abruptly lifted him off the floor. Harry scrabbled for footing when Junior pushed him, but he was hauled back in, and this time the muzzle of a hand-gun was really pressed to his forehead.  He gave one last look at Ron. He knew Hermione’d call an ambulance as soon as she could. 

The street was still empty, and Harry couldn’t hear any sirens, but Reindeer pointed one direction and the troupe took off at a jog the other way, Harry stumbling to keep up. 

It was a tense ten seconds, before Junior pulled him to an abrupt halt in front of a van for a nearby carpet cleaning business. Seneca neatly jumped the hood, sliding into the driver’s seat, and Reindeer folded into the passenger seat. 

Snake-face folded into the very back, and Junior pushed Harry in after. Harry landed in the footwell, and Junior went back around to the side. 

Beauty was lolling over the middle bench seat of the van. Her head was over the edge and she had pulled the bottom of her unicorn mask up until her mouth was bare. Reindeer was leaning over from the seat in front, kissing her swollen mouth upside down like a Spiderman reenactment. Snake-face made a disgruntled noise. “Beauty, really,” he drawled, “not in front of our guest.”

They both froze, uncertain. 

“Well, blindfold him, you idiots.” Snake-face snapped, and the last thing Harry saw was his pale, long-fingered hand tousling the back of sweat curled dark brown hair as he pulled off his mask. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Harry did not like the blindfold, but he supposed it boded well for this situation. They might not kill him. They’d hardly care if he knew what they looked like if they were just intending to shoot him. 

Harry’s legs got cramped from his awkward position in the footwell rapidly. He had to move, or he was going to be physically stuck in this agonized pretzel position. He tried to shift. He ended up knocking his shoulder into the long lean line of Snake-face’s leg. Snake-face didn’t seem to mind. The inside of the vehicle was quiet, except for the intermittent sounds of pleasure Beauty was making the back of her throat. Harry was certain they were past kissing now, and was in part glad for the blindfold. 

“Perhaps we should _ rid ourselves _ of our... guest?” Came the careful tone of Seneca. 

Snake-face hummed. “Perhaps.” He reached down, slid his long-fingered hand back in Harry’s hair. 

“Tell me,” Snake-face drawled. “Are you the father? Was that the reason you took that chit’s place so readily?”

Harry took a deep breath in through his nose, tried to flex his fingers again. They were tingling, going numb. He didn’t know the right answer. Would that make Snake-face less likely to kill him, if he thought he was going to be a papa? Snake-face’s fingers tightened fractionally, impatient. Harry got the feeling that he didn’t really care, that he’d taken Harry instead as much for the amusement of Harry talking back to him, than the optics of kidnapping a pregnant woman. Harry licked his lips and decided to be bold again. 

“I lied. Hermione’s not pregnant. I just didn’t want you to kill her.”

The leg Harry was pressed up against tensed, and for a half second Harry’s only thought of ‘oh _ no _ ’ was only drowned out by the sinking sensation in his belly. 

Then Snake-face laughed, sounding genuinely delighted. The whole van seemed to pause, as if Snake-face’s men (and woman), didn’t quite know what to do about that sound. 

Harry felt like he was being made fun of, and it made him snappish. “I didn’t realize caring about the life of my friends made me funny,” he hissed. 

Snake-face’s hand stilled in Harry’s hair, and then he tugged just enough for Harry to draw his head back. Harry could tell he was considering the parts of Harry’s face not blocked by the blindfold. 

“Do you think I will kill you, then?”

  
  


“It’s a distinct possibility,” Harry snarked back. “I honestly don’t feel all that great about my chances, blindfold aside.”

Snake-face was quiet, and then his fingers shifted from Harry’s hair. The first two fingers of his hand stroked over the swell of Harry’s lip, pressing just hard enough that the flesh depressed. His hand was cold, like his wrists were the ones bound behind his back tight enough to inhibit his blood supply. 

“Do you not fear death, then?” Snake-face asked, voice a low whisper. 

Reindeer broke in. “My Lord, there’s a checkpoint up ahead.”

Snake-face was quiet, and Harry realized he was waiting for Harry’s reply. 

“I think,” Harry answered, voice slow, his lips brushing Snake-face’s fingertips when he spoke. “That whatever happens, I’m just glad it was me, instead of Hermione in my stead.”

Blindfold or not, Harry could tell that Snake-face’s attention was still on him. It made him feel pinned, and tingly all over, instead of just his hands. “Such devotion,” Snake-face whispered. ”Is that a mark of her worth, or yours, I wonder? 

“My lord?” Asked Reindeer, sounding a little harassed. 

“Are they searching vehicles?” Snake-face asked, voice all business. 

“Looks like they’re just doing a brief look inside.”

“Uniforms,” Snake-face ordered. 

There was a hushed scramble, as everyone moved around. It sounded like they were putting on clothes. 

Harry could hear Junior grumble. “I look like a goddamned postman.”

“You’re supposed to look like a maid!” Beauty cried out, sounding way too enthused about this.

“What about  _ him _ ?” Reindeer hissed. 

Snake-face’s hand finally moved off Harry’s mouth, and he found himself pushed deeper into the footwell, until his face was pressed up sideways against one of Snake-face’s feet. He could feel the stitching in the leather against his cheek, smell the fresh scent of polish. 

“Make a sound,” Snake-face whispered to him, and then, loud in the quiet of the van, Harry heard the cocking of a gun. Then it’s cold weight was heavy on the back of his head. “And I’ll be forced to make a mess all over my shoes.”

“Junior,” Snake-face called, voice even, and Harry felt a thick weight of fabric cover him. 

The van slowed, then came to a brief start. The next few moments were filled with a stop-start stop-start, stop-start that made Harry feel queasy, trapped as he was under the cloth with his own hot breath. 

Finally Harry heard the electric whine of the van’s window being lowered. “Is there something going on, officer?” Seneca asked, sounding bored. 

A pause. “Just a random stop, I’m afraid. Where are you headed?” 

“We’ve a job out in the Downs. Huge house. I think they’ve a party?” Seneca offered. “Arseholes just called this morning. Threw a big drag.” Seneca chuckled. “Although I think Bella here got them to pay double for no notice.”

“Damn right!” Bella laughed, for the first time sounding slightly girlish and entirely  _ sane _ . “Arsehole upcharge.”

The weight of the gun felt oppressive on the back of Harry’s neck. He was sweating, feeling hotter than the blanket could possibly explain on it’s own. He considered making a sound, but he absolutely  _ knew _ Snake-face had meant what he said. He held his breath to stave off the tempation instead. 

The officer hummed. Harry wished he could see what was going on. All he had Snake-face’s ankle and foot felt loose under his cheek. “Alright. Good luck with that.”

Harry took a deep gulping breath when they started moving again. The gun moved up, muzzle brushing against his hair like a kiss. The blanket came off of him. 

Snake-face grabbed Harry by the back of the neck, scruffing him. Harry got pulled up, up, for the first time allowed up into the realm of the seat. It was almost worse, making him tense his thighs and calves in a way that Harry knew would make them shake soon. 

“Good job,” Snake-face said, fingers tightening on Harry’s nape in a little squeeze. 

Harry let out a little self-deprecating laugh. “Thanks. Does that mean you might be convinced to just drop me off, no homicide required?” Harry paused, licked his lips. “Before my hands fall off, maybe?”

Harry felt himself yanked around, pulled up until he was perched back on Snake-face’s lap. Snake-face touched Harry’s hands, pressing to see if they blanched, and Harry couldn’t help but wince. 

“Junior,” Snake-face drawled, sounding bored and somehow even more displeased than if he’d come straight out with it. Harry flinched for Junior.

Harry felt the little snap as the zip tie was popped. It was an instant tension release all the way in his shoulders. The skin of his hands felt hot and cold at the same time as blood rushed back in. He clenched his fingers. 

It took a devastating amount of self-control not to reach immediately for the blindfold. Harry folded his hands on his thighs instead. 

“Not going to touch your blindfold?” Beauty asked, sounding mocking. The edges of her attention felt sharp on his skin, cruel and Harry didn’t like that she was focused on him. He tried not to shrink into Snake-face. He wondered if the whole van was watching. It had been so easy to fall into Snake-face’s presence. He had filled up the space at the bank, and his presence definitely filled the cabin of the vehicle. 

“I’d like to live,” Harry said, evenly. His palms felt sweaty against the fabric of his slacks. He felt itchy, over-stretched and tense. Snake-face’s thighs felt hard and lean under his legs. He tried not to fidget. 

“And you presume that will keep you safe from me?” Snake-face rumbled into the curls of his hair. His breath brushed the shell of Harry’s ear. 

“If I see your face, you’re honestly going to let me go?” Harry asked, trying not to shiver. 

“You’re right,” Snake-face said. “I would not permit you to see me and to go.”

Then Harry felt those long, strangely chilled fingers on his blindfold. Harry tensed, his fingers fumbling against Snake-face’s own. He felt like an idiot, struggling to keep the thing that kept him inhibited, disadvantaged. 

It was no use. The blindfold went, leaving his face feeling vulnerable and bare. He’d sweated into the blindfold, no surprise in this stress, and it was chilled. He screwed his eyes shut.

“You can stay, or you may die.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I'm still mulling this one over in my head. There might be more, but for now, I think this is a good stop. ;P


End file.
